


No Big Deal

by foolscapper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: .... that's about it, Gen, Giant Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolscapper/pseuds/foolscapper
Summary: Quick prompt:Sam doubles in size. No, not like that, you perverts.





	

“This isn’t gonna work.”

Sam says it like someone halfway through building a desk without instructions, someone who has clearly lost all the bolts and drilled the wrong wall to the wrong peg. He can’t help but be obvious about it, because he’s almost fourteen feet tall right now and - really, trying to squeeze him into the front seat of the impala is like him trying to squeeze into a junior sized shirt. It’s just not happening.

Fucking curses, man. He literally only has one outfit; ugly plaid ‘like rust and bacon’, Dean calls it, the few things that actually grew with him. He’s getting real tired of the color, let him just say.

As far as the car’s considered, though… Dean looks surprisingly disappointed by the realization, which is a bit funny to Sam, because there’s no fucking way Sam can even _go out_ anymore _anyway_. He’s impossibly large and everyone would stare at him (more than usual). Hell, it’s easy to picture how interesting it looks when he’s trying to get into the bunker. And down those spiraling stairs.

But the _not fitting in the car_ thing, that bothers Dean the most. 

“Dude, I feel naked without you sitting next to me,” Dean says in a surprisingly vulnerable moment; well, as vulnerable as Dean can get when he sniffs casually and talks in that gruff way that might as well be him discussing a case. Sam smiles at his pissy little expression, though, and sees right through it. It has been a few weeks since he’s even left the bunker, and he’s really getting stir crazy. And newspapers are so much smaller now in his hands. Again: fucking curses. He just wants to drink out of a normal sized cup again. Or actually use a fork that feels like a normal fork and not like a small torture instrument you cram into someone’s ear or something.

Sam says, “You should just put a photo of me in the passenger seat, talk to it when you’re feeling like insulting someone nearby.”

“It’s just not the same,” Dean huffs. It’s hard to tell if he’s just being funny, but Sam chuckles all the same.

Sam spends the week thinking about it real hard: cramped in his shower, sitting on the floor on cold-ass tile, contemplating his life. And then he thinks while he lays on his floor at night, his old bed removed and a large palette left on the floor. How the hell are they gonna deal with this? Sam can’t hunt other than, maybe… some isolated, haunted house. He can’t be a huge FBI agent. They’re on a wanted list, for fuck’s sake. But at least it’s not some weird homicidal mark or some Trial illness or… ecetera. 

Next morning, he wanders around the Impala where it rests in the garage, running a heavy hand over the edges of Baby, feeling woefully like a troll from out of the underside of a bridge. But he gives pause at the passenger side door - and is surprised to find an old partially crumpled picture of him taped to his side of the seat. He grins a dimpled smile.

When Dean comes to look for him, he finds Sam in the back seat, crammed in awkwardly with his feet poking out of the rear window. Sam makes a whipping circle in the air with his pointer finger as Dean stares like he can’t quite tell what he’s looking at. Sam talks.

“Let’s go, stupid. I’m sick of researching and getting Jack and the Beanstalk search results. There’s no lake too big for me to swim in, I know that much.” He wags a hand at the air, out of the other back window. “Drive, drive, drive.”

Dean is quick to oblige, grinning the whole ride up.

This’ll do, until they can uncurse him.

No big deal.

… Well, a mildly big deal. Technically.


End file.
